


All About Harry

by Kefalion



Series: All About Harry [14]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Captain America (Movies), Dragon Age: Origins, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Merlin (TV), Supernatural, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood Adoption, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Healer Harry Potter, Incomplete stories compalation, Master of Death Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel, not complete
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kefalion/pseuds/Kefalion
Summary: Between 2013 and 2014 I had a request series called All About Harry. This work compiles most of my unfinished stories. So let me be clear: THEY ARE ALL INCOMPLETE. They're nearly all crossovers. They're all over 1000 words, and they're all Harry-centric. There's a mix of gen, slash and het represented. The Marvel Cinematic Universe is disproportionally represented. I've cleaned them up a bit before posting.Get ready for Harry to pop up in different universes, lots of time-travel, new friends and lovers made and long lost family found. And fusions in which Harry was always a part of that world.If any one story stands out, and you'd like to read more, feel free to try to persuade me to complete it.





	1. Captain America - HydraCaptive!Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: In one of HYDRA's bases they find a group of children, some toddlers, others almost adults. The youths are either brought back to their families or relocated. All but one messy haired teenage boy who says that he has no family and that he wants to help.  
> Requester: No requester, this is mine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and the Commandos are going through a Hydra base. They find a room full of captured kids.

**You Cannot Kill What is Already Dead**

The room was dark and dank, the space vast and echoing, all concrete and polished flagstone. Electrical lights would have lit the way, but they were broken and of little use. Only the faint light streaming in through the door at the end of the hallway made it possible to see.

“Nothing here either!” Bucky called, exiting one of the rooms that were accessible from the corridor.

“Empty here too!” shouted Gabriel Jones.

“Keep searching!” Steve demanded. 

They were divided in two groups searching the corridor from one end each and they wouldn’t give up just yet. This facility had to have some purpose. The rooms they’d already searched showed that horrific experimentation had taken place. Torture not the least of it. HYDRA must have had a purpose for it all. They just must have. It was too horrible to think about it if it had just been for fun. Not that anything could excuse it, but then at least it would make some twisted sort of sense.

Signs that spoke of prisoners being kept there had been evident in many of the rooms yet so far they hadn’t encountered anyone, dead or alive, aside from the small group of scientists – not that they deserved to be called something so civil after what they’d done.

“Captain!” called Timothy Dugan, drawing Steve’s attention.

“Yes?”

“I’ve found another corridor. The ceiling’s collapsed and there are some men stuck under the debris. Civilians.”

“The prisoners?”

“No, not exactly, janitors, cooks, that kind of staff. Ignorant of what was actually going on here as far as I can tell. I need help if I am to get them free, Jacques and I’ve been trying, but it’s no good.”

Steve nodded. “Jones, Falsworth, Morita, go with him.”

The men nodded and hurried away, following Dugan while Steve and Bucky started up their own search again, going into one room after another, finding storage spaces, abandoned equipment and broken crates that had once held various things. In one room chemicals had been kept and the explosions that occurred during the battle when the base was taken must have disturbed the glass bottles so that unnamed chemicals had escaped confinement, covering the floor making an extremely corrosive acid that begun to eat through Bucky’s boots. 

Many of the doors were unlocked, and others were easily opened with the keys they had relieved the guards of upon the assault of the base.

After a long time, which felt longer still, Bucky and Steve were standing side by side, only one door remaining.

The Captain reached out and touched the handle which didn’t budge. There was no key-hole either. He slammed his hand against the surface of the door in frustration, an echoing sound following the impact.

“Hallo?” a muffled voice could be heard from the inside. “Wer ist da?” Even through the metal of the door, Steve could hear that the words were hesitant, not because the person was afraid, no there was steel in the voice, but because the language was unfamiliar.

“We’re from the US army,” he said, chansing on English, hoping that the person on the other side would understand.

“Thank God.” The relief in the voice was palpable. “Please get us out of here!” The accent was also apparent. English, like Peggy. Steve shared a look with Bucky who nodded. They had found what they had been looking for.

“Do you know how we can open this door?”

“No! I’ve never been able to, eh, conclude how they do it!” The person they were speaking to was omitting something. With one look Steve and Bucky agreed on this, but they also agreed on that it was true that he didn’t know.

“Some of us need medical assistance!”

“How many are you?”

“Last time I counted we were fifty-four, but that was a few days ago, and I’m not sure how many were brought back after the last experiments were done!”

“We need to find a way to open this,” Steve muttered, getting ready to start looking.

 “Steve, we don’t have time for that. If they are badly hurt every minute may count.”

 “Fine, what do you suggest?”

 “Well, maybe you could try some force. I’d say that the straight forward approach is called for.”

“Right.” Steve nodded. He backed away and slammed his shoulder into the door. The metal bulged under the force, but it was not enough to open the door. He tried again, and again, with the same result. The door shifted but didn’t break.

Giving one final push, Steve instead used his foot, kicking down the door which at last came off its hinges, bringing with it parts of the surrounding wall.

He didn’t know exactly what he had expected to find inside. The person they had spoken to had said that there would be fifty people inside. What he’d failed to mention was that they were children.

A room that was claustrophobically small, considering the number of people crammed in there and dark was revealed to them. Lines of bunk beds, three stories high, filled it and every single bed held several children. Kids of all ages, from toddlers to near adults were sat haphazardly everywhere. It was too dark to really tell what condition they were in, but it couldn’t be good.

“God,” Bucky gasped.

“Go get help,” Steve commanded, and with a nod his friend was off, running towards the end of the corridor.

“We’re going to get you out of here. I am Captain Steve Rogers with the US Army. You are safe now.”

“Tell them,” a voice commanded, the same sort of authority as he himself had in the voice. He could see that the voice belonged to a man, about his own height, or maybe just a hint shorter and he was the person they had spoken with. At the command, three teens began to speak, one in German, one in French and another in what Steve thought was Norwegian.

The man turned then to Steve and he understood that this man had taken command over the group of children.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “You came right on time. Many of us wouldn’t have lasted the week. They didn’t need us to survive long. They can always get more.”

“Who are you, son?”

“I’m Harry. Just, Harry.”

“All right, Harry.” Steve nodded, not bothered by the lack of last name at the moment. “Can you tell me why they kept you here?”

“Experiments. They wanted to find out what makes us what we are, they wanted to extort our powers and give it to their soldiers. Fools. You can’t use magic if you haven’t been born with it.”

 Steve wondered if he’d heard right. “Magic?”

The young man, Harry, seemed to hesitate. “I shouldn’t tell you this. There’s a law, but I think that we are way past obeying such rules. I can’t say I care anymore. If the enemy knows about it so should our allies. Yes, I said magic. All of us are witches and wizards. We were snatched from homes when magical neighbourhoods were attacked by HYDRA. They are researching magic here, trying to find out how it exists and how it works, mainly to find a way to use it as a weapon and give it to people who don’t have magic. They’ve managed to do it too. Somehow they’ve found a way to take our magic and give it to their soldiers, but the men never lived long. Their bodies weren’t adapted to the flow of magic and they had no idea how to use it.”

Harry staggered on his feet and Steve reached out a hand to grab him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine. Just haven’t eaten for some time is all.” He chuckled dryly. “None of us have. We have water, but it’s been two days since we got anything to eat and it wasn’t enough for all of us.”

With a loud clicking, the lights above turned back on. Someone on Steve’s team must have found a way to restore power. The room looked even worse when it was bathed in the bright, artificial light. Steve looked closer at Harry now. He had realized that Harry was one of the older kids there, he sounded so sure and mature, but when Steve saw him he was surprised to see that he was so young. Fifteen perhaps. Seventeen at most. He looked younger because he was so thin, but so were all the kids in there. They were all pale and had shadows under their eyes and nearly all of them were horrifyingly thin, with bones showing through the skin. Some looked better, having probably not been there as long, and some looked far worse, seeming to be on the brink of death.

“How could anyone do this?” he asked out into the air.

“I don’t know. I only know that were hardly the first ones to go through a situation like this, and I don’t think we’ll be the last either. People can be cruel.” He sounded bitter, oh so bitter and jaded.


	2. Dragon Age - the Origin's Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's ended up in Ferelden. He tries to get back home. Is pursued by Templars. Encounters Duncan and the Grey Warden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no prompt for this one, and no requester either. Seems I just put what I wanted myself in this series as often as not.

Lothering was a quiet village. Even more so these days when many of the inhabitants had ventured south to the Ruins of Ostagar in the Korcari Wilds to join the King's army against the rising Darkspawn Horde. News of skirmishes was travelling to Lothering as messengers came and went, stopping in the village located off the Imperial Highway for the chance of a warm meal and an equally warm bed at the tavern before facing the chilling rains of southern Ferelden once more.

Coming in from the north, still at some distance from entering the village proper, was a company of two men and a dog. Both men were covered in rain-drenched cloaks, water dripping down in cascades in front of their faces as they walked at a steady, efficient pace. The dog, which was a monstrously large and muscular Mabari, trotted by the side of one of the men. Its brown coat was as drenched as the men's cloaks, but it did not at all deter the hound.

Duncan was the name of the man heading the small group. He was the Head of the Ferelden Grey Wardens and as such he had greater need to travel south than most. He had already been south and fought dark spawns, but the need to recruit more men to the cause had driven him back north and he had found what he sought in the city of Highever by the north-sea cost of Ferelden. Only, things had not come to pass as he had hoped.

Duncan suppressed a heavy sigh that wished to escape up his throat as he glanced over his shoulder at his travelling-companion. The young man he had conscripted about two weeks prior had barely said a word in that time. It was understandable, however, and he had not pushed for conversation.

Aedan Cousland, the younger son of the Teyrn of Highever, had lost everything as on old family friend in the shape of Arl Rendon Howe had betrayed his family, taking the opportunity to attack while the Teryn's men were marching south.

Aedan had made it abundantly clear, when they first met, that he had no wish to be a Grey Warden. He saw his duty to his family as paramount and chasing after monster would not help, no matter how worthy a cause it may otherwise be to protect people from the Blights. Once disaster was upon them, he had wished to stay in the overrun castle, to protect his parents and his home or die trying. It was only by forcing the right of conscription that Duncan had managed to convince him that he would be of better use alive and out in the world, then dead, fighting a doomed cause. He had been reluctant still, worrying about his older brother, Fergus, who had left earlier that day leading their army. He wondered who would take up the Cousland banner had Fergus perished too and he tried appealing to Duncan, asking for his help without the promise to become a part of the order. Duncan had not relented. It tore on his conscience to force anyone to fight against their will, but he needed skilled people and he had both seen and heard that Aedan was one of the best. It was the dying Teyrn Cousland’s words that had at last persuaded the youth. His father had stressed that he had to accept, saying the same as Duncan had that he would be of no use for either cause dead. He had to live, protect the nation and seek revenge. To this Aedan had no choice but to agree. _"For you, father, I will do this,"_ he had sworn solemnly.

Later, once they had escaped the overrun castle, Aedan had stopped, grabbed Duncan's arm in a bruising grip and looked him unrelentingly in the eyes. _"I have transferred my loyalty from the Couslands to the Grey Wardens. Your cause is mine, and I shall give all that I am. I hope this pleases you, Commander."_

Duncan would not soon forget either the accusation or the promise he had seen in the man's blue gaze. He could only hope that the young lord would survive the joining. The waste of life that always happened as recruits went through the process of becoming Grey Wardens seemed now a more severe waste than ever before in his experience. But it was necessary. To stop the Blights each Warden was more valuable than a common man. Exceptional individuals as they were and more.

Bright light shot out from the forest to their right, down below the elevated highway, illuminating trees with water-heavy branches and the pelting rain. More lights followed, drawing nearer. Angry red. Chilling bright blue mixed with blinding white.

"Draw your blade," Duncan told his companion while following his own command and pulling out the curved sword he carried by his hip and a matching dagger, keeping one blade in each hand. He found a way down from the highway, hurrying forth with his companion close behind.

Yells became audible over the sound of the rain. Duncan hurried his steps.

"Stupify! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Please! I don't want to hurt you!"

"You must surrender, maleficar! You must pay for your crimes!"

Duncan stopped Aedan from passing him and muttered a command for him to rain in his hound as they came upon a scene where a man in tattered clothing was shooting off magical spells giving off different bursts of luminous coloured light was surrounded by five Templars in full armour. They could not interfere without knowing more. Templar business was not warden business and interfering with the Chantey would cause nothing but grief for the order, which they could not afford. They remained hidden among the trees, silent observers for the time being.

One of Templars lay on the ground, out cold. Another was without a weapon, his sword and shield by the feet of the surrounded man. The other three stood ready to strike

"I have told you!" the mage tried. A Templar tried to advance on him. "Stupify!" the mage retaliated and red light shot out from a small twig of wood in his hand and the Templar it was directed at dove out of the way. "I am innocent of the crime of which you accuse me! I've never done any blood magic! I've never summoned a demon! I wouldn't even know how! And if I did, I wouldn't want to! Expelliarmus!"

One Templar used his strange powers, the air around him lighting up bright blue-white, and whatever spell the Mage had used dissipated harmlessly. "Now!" the same Templar cried and he and the others of his order who were still standing sent the same waves of blue light at the Mage who fell to his knees as it hit him.

One Templar sprang forth, pulled the twig from his hands and roughly pulled his arms behind his back. "You'll not be getting away again. We know your wicked tricks now, maleficar."

"Call me apostate if you must. Bring me to your Circle. Lock me away for the rest of my life. I’ll come willingly now as long as I get to keep my life, but I will never accept the title malificar or accept the punishment of one. I've not done anything deserving of a death sentence!"

"Silence!" the Templar snarled. "You killed our comrades. You turned them against us, poisoned their minds to make them believe you were innocent."

"The only thing I did was to tell the truth of what had happened to me! They believed me and promised to help me. It is you who think that this couldn’t be possible without blood magic."

"And as soon as you were able you tried to stab them in the back."

"No." The mage shook his head, water spraying from the dark strands covering it. "I didn't hurt them. I swear on my life and everything that's holy, I did not, but I could not allow them to take me to the Circle. When I realized that was what they would do, that I'd be locked up forever, I had to escape. I don't want to be locked away. I need to be free if I'm ever to return home. I admit that I used magic to escape, but I didn't kill them. I wouldn't kill people who’ve done nothing but help me."

"You tell pretty lies, but you've told your last. You will face your sentence now. I will not risk you escaping again."

-Later scene-

"I can only transform into one form," Harry said.

"Is that so? How very limited you are." Morrigan sneered. "Is it because you are lazy or have you not had the time or opportunity to study other animals?"

"I've not studied any animal," he said. "I am something my people call an animagus. The animal form corresponds with my spirit, the shape is an innate part of me, it is not something I've learnt by imitating, it something that was already inherent which I have learnt to harness. Judging by your words, your forms are not the same. Do you think you could teach me to transform the way you do?"

-Later scene-

Riordan stirred in his cell as the guard was distracted by the sound of people coming down from the Arl's apartment.

-Plot summary-

Harry ends up off the northern coast of Ferelden roughly a year before the Battle of Ostagar.

 

  
He soon realizes that he has ended up far from home, remembering coming through a twisted place where nothing made sense.  
Knowing that magic got him into the mess, to begin with, he seeks it out, but he learns that the magic of Ferelden is very different from his own, not least in the attitude connected to it. Magic is dangerous and all who have it face the risk of corruption and demon possession. All information he can find says that if he wants to know about magic he has to go to the Circle of Magi, a place of study and prison both. It's dangerous to go there, but he has to try. 

  
Carefully he travels to the Circle Tower at Kinloch in Lake Calenhad. For days he observes, and listens hidden in his animagus form (some bird) Eventually he dares to approach First Enchanter Irving. The man is suspicious of him, but they come to an agreement. For Harry to study at the Circle, it is best if he can walk the halls officially. He is to be introduced as a Mage from the circle at Starkhaven in the free marches, his slight Scottish accent reminding Irving of that place. Harry's trust is, however, betrayed. Irving tells the Knight Commander that he was an apostate. A phylactery is created and Harry is stuck at the Circle. For some time he spends his time sulking, studying and planning his escape.

  
The best plan would be to destroy the phial which can be used to trace him, but it was moved to another storage space nearly instantly as no one wanted to take any risks.  
Eventually, he reconciles with Irving as the man apologizes and explains his outlook.

  
Harry is allowed/forced to go through with the Harrowing. This creates a connection to the fade that wasn't there before, but it also teaches him that it is likely through the fade that he arrived in Thedas.

  
What little he's heard about religion and the work of the ancient magisters of Tevinter has him reluctant to say anything about his discovery. If he is to find a way home he needs to know how you can physically enter the fade and Tevinter seems his best bet.

  
He manages to escape the tower, but the Templars pursue him and since his magic changed when he got connected to the fade in the Harrowing, he is affected by their lyrium enhanced abilities, making escape all that more difficult. He has learnt that his phylactery is in Denerim and tries to go there, but he is turned around as he is nearly captured by Templars who were actually working undercover. He didn't realize as they had a Mage with them, working to draw him in and make him trust them. He used magic to escape.

  
Near Loathing they catch up to him, angry, accusing him of blood magic and associating with a known blood mage who escaped the tower only a day after him.

  
This is when Duncan of the Grey Warden show up. Harry is conscripted and avoids death or tranquillity.

  
They travel to Ostagar.

 


	3. Thor - Father!Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily tries to find a way to protect Harry from Voldemort. She summons Loki who inadvertently ends up blood adopting Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lily did something, crazy but she knew it was the only way to save her Child. Summoning an ancient God and begging him for protection was really the only way. Too bad she had no clue that having her one year old son drink the blood of a god turned him in to one too. Not that said god knew that either. After it is all said and done Loki dose not know what to do with a baby.  
> Requester: VeeVours

**Anything for my Son**

 

James Potter frowned as he heard Harry crying from upstairs. His one-year-old son having woken up from his nap. He put down his copy of the Daily Prophet—it was only ever filled with reports of deaths these days, not making for particularly cheerful reading. However, it felt important to keep up with it, even if it just added to his guilt as he was stuck in his home, unable to help anyone anymore, but it was for Harry’s sake, and he was not about to go out and do something reckless just because he was feeling restless.

“Do you want me to take it?” he asked Lily who was busy pouring over yet another scroll that was about to come apart from age, her long red hair slightly greasy and pulled back in a loose knot, held there by a quill, her face pale from lack of sleep and her fingers stained with ink.

“Would you?” she asked distractedly without looking up.

“Of course,” he answered. Already rising, he kept the sigh that wanted to escape his lips from doing so. Lily had been like this ever since Dumbledore told them about the prophecy two months before. He couldn’t blame her. She had always been more academically inclined than him and this was her way of trying to fix the situation. Sometimes he longed to join her, longed to do something productive, but he had settled on taking care of Harry and the house as well as making sure that Lily ate something each day and that she slept and showered every so often. It wouldn’t do to leave things hanging just because he was growing more and more stir crazy.

He passed her, pressed a kiss to the side of her head and walked upstairs, the carpet on the stairs muffling the sound of his steps. He pulled up his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. The world had changed so much in a few short years. He didn’t feel like he was twenty-one, but closer to middle-aged. A few years ago he had lived a carefree existence, going to school, having a laugh with his friends and always knowing that he could return home to loving parents. Now it was gone. All of it. School was over, his career as an Auror had ended before it had a chance to truly begin, his parents were dead and his friends were scattered with Sirius on the run trying to keep them safe, Peter in hiding as well, and who knows where Remus had disappeared off to.

He entered the room where he could still hear Harry whimpering softly to see the child sitting in his crib, a stuffed dragon under one arm and green eyes wet with tears.

“What’s wrong, Prongsie?” The nickname was Sirius’s fault, having changed the name James had in his animagus form to make it  _ cute _ and it had kind of stuck. James had vowed not to use it as it felt wrong to not see Harry as his own person and just an extension of himself, which the name suggested, nevertheless he slipped up from time to time. It was so very easy to connect the two of them as Harry already looked a lot like him and if you were to put photographs of himself as a child next to one of Harry only the difference in eye-colour would be able to tell them apart.

“Mama?” Harry questioned, making James’s heart ache a bit.

“Mama is busy, pumpkin-fizz,” he said, consciously choosing another endearment for his son, and picking Harry up, holding him close. “She’s doing all she can to keep you safe because we both love you very much, Harry.” He held back a sigh. “So very much.”

<< hvatvetna fyrir sonr minn>>

Lily reached blindly across the dining table, her hand coming in contact with a small bottle that she brought up to her mouth to take a drink from it. She swallowed before she noticed that no liquid had entered her mouth. It had been empty. Giving a small frustrated groan she tore her eyes from the parchment she was studying, the ancient manuscript not an original text, but a copy of engravings that had been found on several stones in Denmark. The stones themselves had longs since been destroyed or lost, leaving these rolls of parchment the only way to read about what the Vikings had known.

She looked at the table and saw seven bottles standing there, six of them empty. Without regarding the empty ones for long she reached for the last full one and drowned it without reacting to the hideous taste. Next, she reached across the table that was littered with old tomes, notebooks she had filled with copious scrawling notes, scrolls and lexicons, grabbing one of her notebooks and flicking through the pages, comparing what she had written to the word she was looking at now.

“Aesir,” she muttered. 

The text she had spent the last few days trying to translate was about the Vikings who had carved their memories into stone telling the story about mighty beings visiting and helping the worthy in battle. Thor was a name that reoccurred several times, as was Odin, but in the accounts that spoke of magic it was another of the Aesir who was mentioned—Loki.

She had discovered a reference to a different text, a text completely dedicated the magically apt Aesir and if she was reading it correctly, that other text would have instructions on how to summon him to ask for his help. It said that he might be as likely to help you as to cause you more problems, but that he generally had a bit of a soft spot for people with magic, although it didn’t say it in as many words. Understanding what she was reading Lily knew that she had to find that text. Loki might just be her last hope, Harry’s last hope. Because Voldemort would find them, perhaps not anytime soon, but eventually the Dark Lord would come and she was willing to do anything to protect her son. Anything.

<< hvatvetna fyrir sonr minn>>

It had taken Lily over five weeks to do it, but she had done it. She had found the text about Loki. She had been able to understand it, and at last, she was ready to summon the Aesir, having read anything she could come over about the deity. Some of what she had read had scared her, though not enough to make her turn back and look for another option. She had gotten too far to change her path now.

In the darkness, under the dim light of the stars, at the back of their garden, near where the forest began, Lily steeled herself and slit the throat of the lamb she had to sacrifice, immediately after using the same bloodied blade to cut a shallow incision across her own wrist. With blood pooling on the ground around the lamb and blood dripping reluctantly from her arm, she lifted her wand and began to incant in an approximation of Old Norse. 

Her husband and her son were both asleep inside the house, not suspecting what Lily was doing. Over the months since they had learned of the prophecy, James had grown accustomed to going to bed alone and waking up alone, sometimes without any sign that his wife had ever joined him. After this night, things would be different. Either Lily would have succeeded and then there would be no more reason for them to worry about their darling child as he would be safe and if things did not go the way she was hoping then there would be nothing left for her to do but to enjoy the last time she had with her family and to fight with everything they had when the moment finally came. 

As Lily said the ancient words she could vaguely sense how the magic of the earth around her stirred, rising from the ground and getting sucked from the trees to answer to the spell. Next, the magic within her answered, fuelling the summons. The bare branches of the trees moved, the high, dry grass left over from summer waved, both in a non-existent wind and just like that, a figure appeared before her. 

He was tall, his features indistinguishable in the darkness, she could only see glints of metal on his armour and his high horned helmet.

“My lord,” she said falling to her knees. Lily knew that she had better show proper respect for this otherworldly being if she desired his help. She may have been able to call him there, but what she truly had been striving for yet lay before her.

“It's been a long time since a mortal called me,” Loki said. “I had thought that your people no longer believed in us and preferred it to remain that way.” His voice was smooth like aged whiskey and he spoke modern English without difficulty, making Lily curious.

“I…” she said, never getting father as she was overcome with shyness, intimidated by the sheer presence of this being from knowing who he was.

“Answer my question,” he demanded, though not unkindly.

“Most no longer believe,” she said, “but some still remember and know the truth of where you came from.”

“Tell me woman: why have you summoned me here?”

“To ask for your aid. To ask for protection for my son.”

“Why would you need my help? What threat could possibly warrant my assistance?”

“There is a prophecy and I know it refers to my son. He will have to fight a Dark Lord, a man who has done everything to amplify his power and who fears no means. I fear for my son’s life. I fear that he will be killed long before he ever has a chance to learn what is needed for him to survive. I ask you who are renowned for your mastery of the arcane to bless him with protection.”

“You are a witch.” It was as much a statement as a question.

“Yes, my lord. My son and his father both have magic and though my husband never took it seriously, you are an idol of his and his friend's. They admire you for the stories about your wit and the tricks you've been known to pull.”

The man was silent for a few moments. “What would you give me in return for this service?” he asked.

“Anything,” Lily said without hesitation, looking up at him, pleading with her eyes and hoping that her emotions would show.

The god was silent. He stood above her, watching. He turned and glanced at the house, looking at the dark windows of the second floor, unknowingly, or perhaps not, looking at Harry’s window. He turned back to Lily who was waiting with bated breath. 

“I shall grant you this request,” Loki said. “Fetch your son.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me yet.”

<< hvatvetna fyrir sonr minn>>

Loki waited in the darkness of the autumn night for the woman to return with the child. It had surprised him when he had felt the summoning. He had never expected it to happen again. He had thought that the knowledge of how to contact him would have been lost a couple of generations after the people he had met with on Midgard had died and that had been a long time ago, both from their perspective and from his. Yet he had sensed the call as he was standing in the council chambers, listening to ambassadors for the Dwarves of Nidavellir who had come to petition his father and Asgard for help with a group of persistent Trolls who they had been unable to rid themselves off. 

Not formally being a part of the proceedings he had been able to take his leave, and soon he had searched out the hidden pathways between the realms and made his way to earth and the woman who had summoned him.

He had not known what to expect and all things considered, he was not disappointed. Magic remained on Midgard which pleased him and it was through them, the mortals who were most like him, that some truth about their exploits long ago had been preserved and it was just because of his magic that this woman would have turned to him rather than Thor or any of the others.

He saw no harm in helping her. She had gone through some trouble to find him and she had shown him proper respect, something he did not receive nearly as often as he deserved. It would be no skin off his back to aid her. He might not even ask for anything in return. There wasn’t anything she had that he wanted. Sometimes an act of kindness could be its own reward, and seeing that there were still people who appreciated him was truly all the thanks he needed.

The woman returned shortly. He studied her carefully, his vision not as limited by the lack of light as hers. He could still see the colours of her hair and eyes. Her hair a lustrous deep red and her eyes brilliantly green. She was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that, but so very young, even for a human, barely having passed from childhood and now burdened with the threat to her child. Really the two individuals before him were two children. In the light of this realisation he decided that yes, he would help her without demanding a price.

“Give him to me,” he said. She obeyed without hesitation, pleasing him. He held the babe easily, supporting his bottom and cradling him in the crock of his arm. Two eyes were open in his small face. His eyes were green like his mother. Not quite as green though, there was more blue in them. Either it was because they had not developed to gain their final colour yet or they would not be exact replicas. He had black hair, it contrasted even the darkness around them and Loki thought that a child of his blood and seed likely would look akin to the boy in his arms. Pale skin, dark hair and green shifting eyes.

“What is his name?”

“Harry James Potter,” she answered.

His lips twitched, it was not a name he would have given a child, but the origins of the names and their meaning were as good as any. “Harry James Potter,” he repeated. “I will give you protection to assure your survival.”

“Thank you! Thank you! I—“

“Do not interrupt now!” he said sharply, making her stop. “Your gratitude is welcome, but at this time I need silence.” 

She followed his request, keeping her mouth shut. 

Loki carefully kept the child supported with one arm, freeing his other and summoning one of his daggers to it. The blade glinted in the light of the moon. He brought his own thumb to the sharp edge, making a shallow cut that had a modicum of brilliantly red blood welling forth. 

Calling forth the power of manipulation that best could be explained as magic he stroked his thumb over the child’s forehead, painting the rune  _ sowilo, _ the sign for the sun. He believed that the symbolism of the life provided by the closest star of any word could give protection against death. He  _ knew _ it could. His blood and his magic would make it so. Would it be enough? Not nearly. It was merely the anchor for the spell. The true protection would come from  _ a lot more _ blood.

Loki once more used the blade. This time he cut a shallow cut across his wrist and as blood trickled out, pumping with each beat of his heart. He held the wind over the baby's mouth and it trickled over small lips.

“No,” the woman said faintly.

Loki ignored her. Anything spoken by him could disrupt the magic.

—Later scene

Loki dropped the book he was reading. It fell from numb fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud, drawing the attention of his mother who was seated not far from him. They would occasionally sit together and read in the garden, spending time together in the simplest of ways.

“What is wrong?” she asked, a frown of worry drawing her eyebrows together, crinkling the skin between them.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly and rose to his feet, ignoring the book he had dropped.

The queen could see the worry that had come over him and realized that the time for questions was not now. “Be safe,” she simply said, saw him give a small nod in acknowledgement before he left at a hurried stride.

—Much later scene

“Father, what is happening?” Harry strode quickly to walk by his father's side. Everything was so confused. His uncle had just been about to be crowned and then the Allfather had abandoned the ceremony calling his two sons to his side.

“I do not know,” Loki said shortly. “Stay with your grandmother.”

“But—“

“No! Do as I say.” 

“Fine, as you command.” Harry felt like sulking but did as asked.

Loki’s face softened. “If it makes you feel better, see it as if you are to protect her.” 

Harry knew he was being indulged, but he loved his father for it nevertheless. He nodded and separated from his father’s side and went back to the queen.

—Later scene

Loki held on to Gugnir, holding the spear while Thor gripped the other end and above them, he could see Odin. The Allfather looked tired. He had to say something. He had to make the man understand.

“I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us!”

The empty void was spreading out under them, exploding in colours as the observatory fell and the energy released twisted to form a passage to unknown places.

“Father!” That was Harry's voice. Far away. It might only be a figment of his imagination.

“No, Loki...” said Odin.

Loki looked into the old man’s eye for a moment longer and allowed his grip around the spear to grow slack. He wasn’t wanted. He would not impose on them any longer. His hand lost contact.

Thor called out, and then there was another voice. Harry. He was truly there after all. They’d all be better off without him. He fell after the observatory, the gateway of the Bifrost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original AN from 2013
> 
> Omg I began writing this straight after seeing Thor – The Dark World, which I loved. Loki is brilliant and Asgard is beautiful. But I also have problems with the timeline. Odin must defeat the Frost Giants sometime after 965 AD, if what is said in the movies is to be followed, at which point Thor and Loki are infants, and yet they have time to build legends among the humans, and a few years later Odin says to his sons who look no older than twelve at the most that Humans no longer believe in them… urhg… it doesn’t fit. Neither does the whole thing with the dark elves. They are mentioned in stories that are told throughout Thor, with Fandral being captured and the gang saving him, and in Thor 2 they are said to have been destroyed more than five thousand years ago (by Odin’s father) and that none remain… Bad work on consistency here and it gives me trouble as to how I should work with it. What I want to do is simply put the war with the frost giants back a little bit so that Thor and Loki has time to appear on earth before everyone in Scandinavia converts to Christianity, as for the dark elves I don’t think I will be touching that problem and if I do I’ll have to figure something out.


	4. The Amazing Spider-Man (and the MCU) - Cousin!Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has to go stay with other relatives. Those relatives include one Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After an unfortunate car accident Harry finds himself without a guardian. The Social Services finds a cousin of his mother alive in New York. Harry is sent to live with his Uncle, Ben Parker. Starts during The Amazing Spider-Man and goes into The Avengers. How a teenaged Harry would be changed by meeting and living with the Parkers. And if you can fit in a meeting with a certain dark haired God of mischief, which leads to a bit of romance and an over protective Aunt May and Peter giving Loki the "You hurt him and we kill you slowly" speech, that would be great.  
> Requester: Dreamwind

**God, Spider, Wizard**

Harry was resigned pure and simple. He was getting ready to once more spend time with his aunt uncle and cousin at number four Privet Drive. It felt strange that it would be necessary seeing as the world was crumbling around them. Only days before the wizarding world had at last found out that Voldemort was back and paying the price for that discovery had been the life of his godfather, Sirius Black. Despite that, he would now have to pretend that none of it mattered if only to appease his magic abhorring relatives. 

It felt awful that he would have to return to his relatives, but Dumbledore had not budged on that point, insisting that it had to be done because of the blood wards that were protecting him, even with Voldemort having taken his blood, but for that protection to hold he had to stay at his Aunt’s for a few weeks, the longer the better. For all that he had started to disagree with the Headmaster, he did see the point and he would suffer through it. 

Harry figured that as long as he just kept to his room as much as possible, he and his relatives could coexist without any of them succumbing to the urge to throttle anyone. To keep the peace, he had to start behaving the best he could to keep their expectations. So before they got out past the barrier to the muggle world, he said his goodbyes to his friends, knowing that his aunt and uncle would be more infuriated if they were crowded by wizards compared to if he showed up alone. 

He pulled his trunk and Hedwig’s cage through the bricks of the barrier and saw the familiar signs of platforms nine and ten. He moved a few paces away so that he wouldn’t be in the way of anyone else exiting the platform of the Hogwarts express, all the while keeping an eye out for Uncle Vernon’s bulk or Aunt Petunia’s scrawny, long-necked self. What he became surprised at seeing was a man in a dark grey suit holding up a sign that read  _ Harry Potter.  _

Feeling more than a little suspicious Harry tried to juggle his baggage so that he could manage it with one hand, the other one searching out the comforting grip of his wand. Neither the statute of secrecy nor the restriction for underage use of magic could make him stow his wand away. As the Dursleys were nowhere to be seen, he saw no other solution than to approach the man.

“Mr Potter?” the man said as he got close enough for them to speak without raising their voices above the din of the platform. He was rather tall, about thirty years of age, with glasses, light brown hair and an easy smile.

“Yes,” Harry said cautiously.

“My name is Andrew Pickering. I am with social services.”

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly, this was not something he had expected.

“There’s been an unfortunate development and well... I think we best talk elsewhere.”

“What’s happened?” he demanded. There was no way he would just walk away with this man without getting a few answers first. He wasn’t quite that stupid. Not anymore.

“Mr Potter, are you sure you—”

“Yes, I’m bloody sure,” Harry snapped. “What has happened?”

Mr Pickering didn’t look pleased, however, he complied. “About three months ago Mr Vernon Dursley and Mrs Petunia Dursley were in a car accident. They didn’t survive.”

“Oh,” Harry said once again. He felt a bit hollow. The news was completely unexpected. He had never taken it into account that something like that could happen. It was in the wizarding world that the dangers were, not in the ordinary, boring lives of the people in Little Whinging.

“If you would be willing to come with me, we can sort this out.”

“I… Okay, I guess.”

[+++]

Harry felt strangely numb as he followed the man from social services out from the train station and into a taxi. He had never cared much for the Dursleys. He wouldn’t miss them or grieve for them. But for all their differences he had never wished them dead, not even when he had been at his angriest. It was also strangely ironic that they would have died in a car accident as they had claimed that was how his parents had died and how he had gotten his scar. Some might call it payback, karma or destiny. Harry just wished to call it a tragedy triggered by chance, the same way he wished his own life only had been ruled by chance and not prophecy.

His trunk had gone into the boot of the car, but he kept Hedwig in her cage in his lap, holding his arms wrapped around the steel bars for comfort. At least his aunt and uncle hadn’t died because of him. No magic had been involved. He couldn’t blame this on himself in contrast to all the other people around him who had passed on.

“What happened to Dudley?” he asked, remembering that his cousin hadn’t been mentioned.

“Mr Dursley has been living with his Aunt Marjorie Dursley since the accident. Ms Dursley was, however, unwilling to take you in.”

Harry nodded silently. He wasn’t surprised at that. Aunt Marge had always hated him more than either Petunia or Vernon had. He could very well remember that the summer before his third year when he had blown her up, she had said that if Harry had been left on her doorstep she would have left him to an orphanage.

“It is thanks to Mr Dudley Dursley that we knew to come to pick you up today.”

“Oh?” Harry said. This time the small sound was one of surprise.

“Yes, but we will continue this once we are in private, I think.”

“Okay.”

[+++]

Before long the arrived at a nondescript office building where only the sign would tell you where you had arrived. He followed Mr Pickering through a double door into a lobby and actually smiled a little. The place looked far better on the inside than it did from outside. Although it was as you could imagine with people waiting around for their turn at the slots where the employees would take care of their errands it did look more uplifting than he had imagined. The sofas and chairs that were placed around the room looked comfortable and the walls weren’t painted in depressing white but in brighter colours such as canary yellow and grass green, and it managed not to look garish, just cheery.

Mr Pickering was dragging his truck so he only had to contend with carrying Hedwig’s cage which was a relief as it left him with a free hand for his wand. Things did appear to be genuine. Mr Pickering was probably not a Death Eater in disguise, but Harry would still be careful for a while longer. Not to mention indefinitely as the blood wards would be gone by now. That had him thinking, perhaps there was no use for him to play along with this. He should try to get somewhere safe to spend the summer, like the Burrow. If he only sent Hedwig with a small note, he was certain the Weasleys would come and get him. Nevertheless, he found himself following the man into an elevator, up a floor and into an office where he was offered a seat in front of a desk as Mr Pickering sat down on the other side, starting up a computer.

“Well then, before we start would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Eh, I can take a cup of tea, thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a sec. Might as well allow this old shit box to get the time to start up.”

Harry felt his lips twitching as the man called his computer a shit box. He supposed it was quite old. The thick screen was telling even for someone like him who never had a chance to keep up with technology, but he had seen Dudley’s new computer last summer as well as his smartphone both which were a lot slimmer than the dust-grey plastic contraption on the desk.

Mr Pickering returned a moment later with two cups of steaming tea, the string of the tea bags hanging over the rims.

“I hope you’re okay with black tea,” he said. “I brought some sugar too if you like having that.”

“Eh, sure.” The man placed one of the cups on the desk on the side facing Harry along with a small paper bag labelled sugar that was clearly meant for one cup of tea. “Thanks,” Harry said feeling a bit awkward, ripping the paper encasing open and poring in the sugar as well as removing the teabag as the water in the cup looked dark enough for his liking. He took a small sip to be polite, scorching his tongue and settled back in his chair to wait for what was to come next.

The social worker tapped on the keyboard to the computer, his face serious. He made a small humming noise under his breath and frowned. “Your case is rather peculiar, though not unique,” he said.

“Oh?” Harry felt like he had lost his ability to be eloquent.

“Yes, Harry. May I call you Harry?”

Harry nodded.

“For simplicity’s sake, you can feel free to call me Andrew. Well, Harry, your records are nearly blank. There is nothing on you since you were ten except your address which is still the residence of your late aunt and uncle.”

“Well…” Harry began to say.

“Dudley told us that you go to a private boarding school. The same one as your parents went to. Apparently very exclusive.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, astonished that such information could come from Dudley. Apparently, his cousin was also the one to tell the people at social services when he would be back. He never would have fingered that Dudley would know any of those things.

“No need to call me sir, Harry, makes me feel unnecessarily old. It’s Andrew.” Harry nodded mutely, not really caring much about that. “From what I understand of Mr Dursley’s statement, the reason why your records, as well as the records of both your parents,  are nearly non-existent is because you are part of a separate society of sorts. This is also the reason he gave for why it was impossible for us to contact you.”

“Eh...” Harry didn’t know what to respond to that. He didn’t want to break the statute of secrecy by blabbing to this muggle, no matter how nice he may seem.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell us if it goes against your beliefs. We’ve dealt with people who live on the side of society before. Now is it also true that you will be returning to your school in September?”

“Yes.” Harry was beginning to think that they thought he was a member of some religious cult. He could work with that, and from what he knew it wasn’t all that far from the truth. At least not if you looked at it from an outside perspective.

“Well, until you come of age in a little more than two years, you will have to be given a guardian. There are some options open to you here and this is what we will be deciding today. If you change your mind, later on, that will be okay as well, but the sooner a solution is found the better for all involved. As I mentioned on the way here, Ms Marjorie Dursley was not willing to take you in. You can spend your summer in one of the homes for children, we can place you with a foster family or you could go stay with your relatives in America.”

Harry had been feeling glum at the first prospects, but at the mention of relatives, he made wide eyes. “I have… I’m related to someone besides Dudley? Eh, someone alive?”

“Yes.” Andrew frowned. “You didn’t know?”

Harry shook his head.

“I suppose it’s not that surprising. You aren’t closely related after all. We’ve established contact with your mother’s cousin, one Benjamin Parker residing in New York City. In a way, you are lucky that it’s been some time since the accident. It has given us time to look into a few options. Anyway, Mr Parker is willing to take you in. He is married and he has adopted his nephew Peter who is about your age.”

“He’d take me in just like that?”

Andrew nodded. “I’ve talked to him at two separate occasions. From what I gather, he is not the sort of person to squander responsibility.

“Is it possible for me to talk to him before I decide?”

“A reasonable request. Yes, it should be possible. Let’s see, it’s a little past five here, that makes it just afternoon in New York. We could try to ring now. Though as it is a weekday, it’s possible that no one will be at home.”

Harry hesitated. He didn’t know what to think. If he had a relative who was willing to take him in, he would not, he could not pass up the opportunity. Dumbledore would perhaps be pleased by it too, having him out of England could be a good thing as far as protection went, and perhaps it would be possible to re-establish a blood ward at the Parker house. “Could we?”

“We’ll give it a try.”

Andrew pulled the phone on his desk closer and dialled a number carefully. Harry nearly held his breath as he waited. Was it possible that all he had dreamt about as a young child would finally come true? He would have a relative who actually wanted to take him in, someone who wasn’t bothered that he needed to be fed?

Petunia must not have known about them or considered them a possibility, otherwise, he would surely already be living with them.

“Hello, this is Andrew Pickering with the social services in England.”

Pause.

“I spoke with your Uncle about a month back.”

Pause again.

“When will either of them be home?”

Pause.

“I see. Well, Mr Parker, I am calling because your cousin Harry Potter has returned from his boarding school and he requested to speak to his uncle before making any decision regarding if he would like to come live with you. Perhaps the two of you should speak?”

And pause.

Andrew hummed in affirmative and pulled the phone away from his ear. “As I suspected, Mr Parker was not at home, neither was his wife, but Peter is here and you might want to speak with him. After all, if you end up staying with them, I expect you will be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I… I’ll speak with him,” Harry said.

“Good. Try to get to know him then. You can have ten minutes, and then I’m sorry to say that the department won’t be pleased to pay for more. We don’t have the best deal with the phone company when it comes to international calls. If you end up hanging up sooner, you can find me in the first office down the corridor to the left. Just knock on the door before coming inside, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Harry.”

Andrew up and left after handing the receiver to Harry, who looked at the black plastic for a moment before placing it at his ear.

“Hello?” he said tentatively.

“Hey!” the voice on the other end answered. “I’m Peter, and I hear that you’re Harry.”

“Eh, yeah.”

“Sorry about your aunt and uncle.”

“Thanks.”

An awkward silence followed.

“It’s strange,” Peter said tentatively.

“What?”

“How similar our situations are.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how much you know or anything. I suppose we found out about you possibly staying with us before you did.”

“I suppose so. I only found out a few minutes ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“For the record, I’d be alright with having you come. Though Uncle Ben’s already said that if you do, we’ll have to share a room. Would that be okay with you?”

Harry felt a bit out of his depth, talking to his boy, his second cousin, but he did know the answer to that question. “You don’t mind?”

“Not really.”

“To me it’s fine. I’m used to sharing. I live in a dormitory with four other blokes most of the year and when I’ve visited my mate Ron over summer we’ve shared a room too.”

“That’s good then. You’d only be staying over the summer?”

“Yes, I’d be back for school in September. It would only be two summers really.”

“You don’t get to come home for Christmas?” Peter sounded slightly scandalized at the thought.

“We do, as well as for spring break, two weeks around Easter. It’s just, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“You wouldn’t be. At least I don’t think so. The tickets might be a bit pricey, but that doesn’t matter really. Though, are you a terrible trouble maker?”

“Eh…” Harry once again found himself wondering what to say. “My aunt and uncle thought so,” he muttered.

“You don’t agree?”

“Eh…” How very articulate he was being. Way to make a good first impression. He was making a complete fool of himself.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Peter said kindly.

“Thanks.”

“So, what do you like to do?” 

“Eh…” Harry was thinking frantically. What could he say? He couldn’t mention anything related to magic, not yet anyway. And saying it over the phone, when nothing was decided yet would just be stupid. “I play chess sometimes,” he said, settling for something that would sound familiar to a muggle and it was the truth, even if the chess pieces he played with beat each other into fragments when a piece was taken.

“Okay. Are you any good?”

At least he wasn’t being ridiculed for a somewhat nerdy interest, which was good. “I’m decent,” he said. “The friend I’m always playing with is brilliant though, so it’s not often I win.”

“Huh, well, I’m not a big chess player myself, but I do play with Uncle Ben sometimes, and it’d be cool if we could play.”

“Cool,” Harry repeated.

“Cool.”

“Eh… well, what do you like to do then?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh? I just admitted to liking chess.”

“Fair enough. I love photography.”

“Oh.” Harry immediately got an image of Colin Creevey in his mind, the younger boy running around with a camera always in hand, the flash blinding any and all unsuspecting victims. “That’s nice,” he said, perhaps a bit cooler than intended. He didn’t mind that Peter liked photography, but he did have some bad experience with photographers, something that came with being famous.

“You don’t sound especially hyped,” Peter picked up, sounding down himself.

“I don’t mean to. It’s great that you like it. I’ve just... I’ve been the photographed object without consent one too many times is all.”

“How come?”

“Eh, I suppose that I’m sort of famous. In my  _ community _ ,” Harry said going with the story the muggles seemed to be believing.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be sure to ask for your permission before taking any pictures.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. And…”

“What?”

“I also like science.”

“Oh.” Harry wanted to smack himself. This was the least intelligent conversation he's ever had with someone. “One of my best friends like science too,” he said when he silence dragged on. Hermione might mostly be interested in magic, going to a school of witchcraft and wizardry, but Harry knew that she tried to keep up with muggle stuff as well and she did take Arithmancy which he understood was a bit like math. “So I don't mind or anything,” he continued.

“Good,” Peter said. “Do you think you'll want to stay with us?”

“I don't want to be a bother.”

“You won't be. Uncle Ben wouldn't have told the agency he's if we didn't want to help you out.”

“I suppose I would like staying with you.”

“Great!”

“Yeah.”

“I'll tell my Uncle that I spoke to you and I'm sure the people organizing this will call us again seeing to all the details and what not.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder how soon they could have you come. Have you ever been to New York before?”

“No, I've never been outside of the UK.”

“Oh, it'll be your first time flying too then?”

“Yeah.” The fought of flying in an aeroplane didn't excite Harry all that much. It wasn't like flying a broomstick. He could just imagine what a pureblood like Malfoy would say about it.  _ Stupid muggles, flying around in a giant metal tank? It's a death trap. Well, maybe I’ll get lucky and you end up dying, Potter. _ For once he felt inclined to agree about muggles being mad. Hermione would probably say the opposite.  _ Flying is very safe, Harry. Statistically, it's much safer than going by car. And the planes crossing the Atlantic are really large and comfortable. There's no need to worry. _

“Shit!” Peter suddenly said. “You know what, I have to go. I had no idea it was this late already. I'll see you soon then?”

“I suppose.”

“Great! Bye, Harry!”

“Bye.”

[+++]

Harry yawned and stumbled a little as someone walked into him, hurrying on without apologizing. He had finally gotten off the plane in New York and was making his way out through customs. He didn’t let the invasive search get to him, too tired to care all that much. He hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane. He didn’t know why he hadn’t been able to sleep. Voldemort was no longer plaguing him with visions or random bouts of intense pain in the scar, having become wary of Harry’s mind after the failed possession in the Ministry. The blame could not be placed on the plane either. The seat had been comfortable. He had been able to tilt it back until it more or less became a bed.

The social services had asked him if he wanted to upgrade to a better ticket. They would not pay for anything better than coach, but if he had money to spend, they could easily book him a better ticket. Knowing that he had piles of gold in his Gringotts vault Harry had gone for it. Getting the money transferred had been a bit of a hassle, but the Goblins had been none puzzled when he made the request as he went to Diagon Alley in the company of Mr Weasley.

He had, of course, had to contact the Order. He couldn’t just fly off to America without letting anyone know. He had written several letters and sent Hedwig away with them. To his surprise, the one to show up had been a woman he had only met twice before. First when he was brought to Grimmauld Place the previous year and then as she attended an order meeting later that summer. Emmeline Vance. She had told Harry that she had been chosen to help him out as she had been close by could get to him very quickly. She also had better experience with muggles than most witches and wizards. In a hushed voice, she’d told him that she was on duty to guard the Prime Minister.

She had been his contact with Dumbledore as the Headmaster would draw too much attention in the office of the social services and she had been introduced to them as a representing from Harry’s school, his mentor in the program. Through her, Harry had been told that Dumbledore thought it was a good solution to have him stay with these new-found relatives, and the old wizard was positive that with a bit of work and luck, he would be able to transfer the blood wards from Privet Drive to his new residence in New York.

However sad it was to say, they were lucky that Dudley hadn’t died. If he had died at the same time as Petunia, the wards would have fallen and the magic would have been lost. As it were, it might be possible to harness it. The Order was also of the opinion that staying in America might be the safest option for Harry. Nobody would know where he was. Voldemort would never suspect that he would be taken out of the country.

Dumbledore would meet Harry at his relatives and explain everything to them as well as put up the wards, and if they proved unwilling, he would be able to bring Harry back to England. Harry had been a bit wary of telling them, afraid that they would react similar to the Dursleys and hate him for his magic. Even though Harry hadn’t met the Headmaster eye to eye since their confrontation in the man’s office the night after the events at the Ministry, he had still been able to imagine the man’s sad expression when this concern had reached him.

Vance, who had continued to be his contact over the two weeks it took to arrange everything, had told him that if his Benjamin Parker couldn’t accept him for all that he was, Harry were not to stay with him. She agreed with Dumbledore on this and had been upset when she learnt of how he had been treated previously. If his family, who should care for him, wouldn’t, they were no longer an alternative.

This had comforted Harry somewhat even if it left him feeling a bit hesitant. There was always the possibility that he would go to America for nothing. Having to fly there and all. He was to go by aeroplane as they didn’t want to obliviate and confound the muggles responsible for him if not necessary and muggle transportation was as safe as anything they could arrange. There were however a few Order Members aboard the plane, trailing after him at all times just to be on the safe side.

Tonks had winked at him as she took her seat a few meters in front of him, disguised as a middle-aged black woman. And he had recognized a nervous looking Hestia Jones, sitting next to a snoring old man, when he went to the loo.

Now he was finally there. However comfortable the ride had been, he didn’t want to get back on a plane any time soon again, that was for sure. Hopefully, he could get to go back to London by Portkey in August. While he didn’t enjoy being hurled through reality with a magical hook behind his belly button, at least it was quick.

He dragged his trunk through the gate at customs for people with nothing to declare and got out into the entrance. People with signs were standing all around. Most of them in fancy suits with signs that were printed in equally fancy manners. The people waiting for him, however, had a sign that was homemade. Cardboard and thick marker wrote out the name  _ Harry Potter.  _ Three people were gathered around the sign. The whole Parker-family. His family.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered and dragged his trunk up to them, pushing through the crowd of new arrivals who, same as him, were trying to find the people waiting for them.

“Mr Parker?” he asked the grey-haired man with glasses, who was holding the sign. He looked over the other two people. The woman, May Parker, had dark hair falling down to her shoulders. Her face was somewhat wrinkled, but as she smiled at him, she looked kind. Behind them, Peter lingered. He was tall and looked a bit awkward. No matter what they looked like, it made him feel slightly warm inside. They had come to meet him. All of them.

“Harry, I presume?” the man said. The young wizard nodded. “Welcome to New York.”

“Thank you.”

[+++]

The ride to the Parker residence out in Queens was mostly been filled up with Mr and Mrs Parker telling him about the city, sharing information about the places they were passing. Peter, who was in the back with him, made faces as his uncle spoke, and each time the man looked in the rearview mirror, he would let his expression slack to a completely innocent mien. Harry instantly liked all three of them and it made him even more nervous about what they would think of him when they found out that he had magic. He thought about making sure to open the door to Dumbledore and then asking the wizard to keep it all secret, to put up the wards without letting them know if possible. He didn’t want to risk losing this. It seemed like it could be all he’d ever dreamed of. A real family of his own. The Dursleys had hated magic, and him because he had it. The Parkers were related to them and might feel the same. By Merlin, he hoped that they would be more like his mother than his aunt. No one had ever had anything bad to say about Lily.

The house he was brought to was lovely. It was one of many in a row of connected, similar homes, but unlike Privet Drive, the houses weren’t identical. Each was shaped by the people who lived there. Number thirty-six, where the car pulled up, was fronted by a small lawn, a pathway leading up to the porch made out of yellow bricks and a multitude of flowerpots were both by the path and up by the porch. A bike was leaning against the porch and a newspaper lay on the path. It looked homey.

“Are you hungry, Harry?” May, or Aunt May as she’d insisted, asked as they climbed out of the car.

I’m starving,” Peter told her with a grin.

“I wasn’t asking you. You had a big breakfast,” she chided him. 

“That was hours ago!”

“Harry?”

“You don’t have to cook for me. I don’t want to be a bother,” he mumbled.

“It’s no bother. I’ll get something started. You should eat something before you go to bed. I know your body is telling you that it’s late at night, but if you can force yourself to stay awake for a bit longer, you’ll settle in all that much sooner.”

“Okay.”

“Peter, show him your room.”

“Alright, boss. Come on, Harry.” Peter pulled his trunk out of the back of the car which Ben had opened up, the man looked at him strangely.

“Since when do you volunteer to help out around the house?” the man asked.

“Since when don’t I help out?” Peter returned.

“Peter,” Uncle Ben chided.

“I’m not the youngest anymore. Of course, I have to help out.”

“Hey!” Harry protested. “You’re just a year older than I am.”

“And those months make all the difference.” Peter grinned and pulled the trunk up the path and inside the door May had left open. “Come on!”

“You best follow him then,” Ben said, and Harry hurried to do as suggested.

 

—Plot points

Dumbledore shows up and explains the situation, the Parkers agree to let Harry stay

Harry spends the summer with the Parkers, gets to know them, and gets close

Goes back to Hogwarts for his sixth year

Back to New York for Christmas: best Christmas ever

Back to Hogwarts

He gets to go to his family for Easter too

Uncle Ben dies and Peter becomes Spiderman

Harry gets out of school for the funeral, before going back.

Dumbledore dies, another bloody funeral.

Spending the time before he turns seventeen with May and Peter, notice how strange Peter is acting

Doesn’t find out the truth, before jumping the pond again. Spends a miserable year on the hunt for Horcruxes after having argued with both May and Peter about doing it.

Comes back to New York directly after the battle of Hogwarts

Peter is nowhere to be seen. He’s with the Avengers, trying to stop Loki. Tony Stark is not amused about Peter keeping his mask on at all times.

Meanwhile, Harry meets with a dark-haired stranger who talks with him about magic

The stranger is of course Loki.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixing Amazing Spider-Man with the MCU really hammers home how long ago I started this story. So weird.


	5. Merlin - StagAnimagus!Harry, Time-travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin hears a disembodied voice in the forest right after he saw a particularly majestic stag. The voice speaks in a dialect he’s never heard before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sent back in time and stuck in his Animagus form - courtesy of an escaped Death Eater - Harry is soon found by Merlin who could never resist someone in need. (It'd be cool if Harry's Animagus form was something large, like a wolf - it'd make everything that much more amusing - or maybe a dingo.) It could start with Merlin finding Harry somewhere and trying to sneak the creature into Gaius’ home.  
> Requester: Sezu-Ni

It was early morning. The leaves in the treetops were swaying in the wind, gentle rays of pale golden-green sunlight trickling through the canopy, making ever-changing patterns on the forest floor. Merlin was walking to a glade not far ahead, actually on a quest to gather herbs, not only using it as an excuse to explain his erratic absence when King Arthur came looking for him. With a small smile, Merlin imagined how Arthur would struggle with dressing himself when he didn’t show up to help. It wasn’t that the man wasn’t able to do it himself. He was just stubbornly unwilling, which would be hilarious if it wasn’t him who had to deal with the aftermath of the whole thing.

After walking for a few more minutes, listening to the chirping of birds in the foliage, and the swaying of the wind in the treetops, he entered the glade which at this time of the year was filled with yellow and white flowers, creating a dense fragrant carpet. The herbs he was looking for liked damp conditions and could be found at the other end of the meadow, in the northern end by the brook that ran out into the open there, giving a near perfect environment with a lot of water and plenty of sunlight.

As he drew closer, he could see a strange shape perturbing from the flower-covered ground, like a large sprawling branch. The branches were dark, black actually and shiny, making Merlin curious. He walked towers them and gasped as he saw that they were antlers, connected to the head of a majestic stag. The creature was lying on the ground, panting hard. Merlin couldn’t see any injuries, yet something was clearly wrong with the magnificent animal, for it had detected him and if it could have, it would surely have sprinted at the sight of him.

Merlin wasn’t sure about what he should do. Arthur would definitely have thought the animal to be a great trophy, but he thought it a sad notion that this noble beast would be killed, its body eaten and the beautiful black antlers hung on a wall for all to gape at. It should be allowed to remain free.

As he kept approaching, the stag tried to get up, struggling, but managing to stand shakily on its four legs. It looked intently at him, eyes green – wasn’t that strange? Then it bolted out of sight, disappearing between the trees.

“Good,” he murmured. “Get away from Camelot before the King decides to hunt again.” Merlin proceeded to gather the herbs he had come for, filling his bag in little time, soon forgetting about the animal.

=-<>-=

A while later Merlin was bending down by the stream to take a drink of water when he was startled by a voice.

“ _ Why can't I change back? Damn it! What happened? Bloody Death Eaters! It was that spell... How did they even know I had an animagus form? They shouldn't know! Trying to apparate in this form might not have been my brightest idea either… I have no idea where I am. It sure isn’t Cardiff. Hmm… That muggle I saw before was a bit strangely dressed. I wonder what that was about.”  _ A mental groan. _ “Oh, Merlin! What have I gotten myself into this time?” _

It took a moment for Merlin to understand that he wasn't hearing the voice with his ears but with his mind. The voice didn’t have the normal echoing undertone that he associated with telepathy. The most curious thing, however, was that he couldn't understand any of the words, making him confused. Why would someone bother to speak mentally with him if they spoke a strange language? Maybe they weren't speaking to him at all. The spell might have been cast wrongly, which lead to him being able to hear. But the voice had said his name. Merlin. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

The only people he’d met that had spoken to him in his mind were Druids, but they knew him as Emerys, not Merlin. Something was definitely strange here.

As he sat, frozen by the stream, water dripping from his fingers the voice kept speaking. The words were strange and familiar at the same time, possibly some dialect, though none he had ever encountered before. He listened trying to discern anything he could. The speaker was male, and distressed, the tone of his voice changing rapidly, from panicking, to determined, to dejected.

Not thinking too much about it Merlin decided to try and talk to him. “Hello!” he called out mentally and the stream of words stopped for a second only to start again, this time staying on panicked.

“ _ Merlin, what was that? Someone’s speaking in my head. No. I was just imagining it. I’m tired that’s all.” _

Merlin picked up on his name again. “Yes, I’m Merlin,” he said. “Can you please speak so that I understand you?”

“ _ Blimey! Not imaginary then. Eh... Hello?” _

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” Merlin said.

_ “Eh, I can’t understand you,” _ the voice said hesitantly.  _ “Do you speak English? I need help. You’re not a Death Eater, are you? Please tell me you’re not a Death Eater. Though if you were, you wouldn’t exactly admit to it, would you. I’ve gone mad. I must have _ .”

This wasn’t going very well. The voice was speaking in a dialect Merlin had never heard before and he had no idea how to go about communicating. He couldn’t even fall back on body language as they were speaking mentally. Perhaps he could send messages in images. It was worth a try. He tried to picture himself. He had seen his own reflection in Arthur’s mirrors enough times that he knew what he looked like. He concentrated on the imaged and pushed it through.

-later scene

"Merlin, what was that?" Gaius asked, eyes wide.

There had been a bellow from his room, impossible to mistake.

"Sorry, sorry," the mental voice of the deer said, and though Merlin still couldn't understand the words he recognised the tone. 

"Uh," he said unintelligibly, stalling, "that was... my stomach," he tried, "I'm really hungry."

His weak lie was met with an unimpressed look. "We just ate," Gaius stated.

"Right," he said, mentally hitting himself for his ill thought excuse. "Eh, I mean, I'm really full. If you excuse me, I'd like to go to bed,"

"What are you hiding this time?"

"Hiding? Who's hiding anything? What makes you say that?" he babbled, voice a high pitch. "May I go now?"

"Yes, just one more thing before you go. Where are the herbs I asked you to gather this morning?"

"What? 

"The prickle weeds."

"Oh right, those."

"Yes, those."

"Well, you see something happened."

"Something to do with what you are hiding in your room?"

“Yeah. You see, I started hearing this voice.”

“Merlin…”

“Really! It’s nothing bad. Just telepathy.”

 


	6. Supernatural - MasterofDeath!Harry, Harry/Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is the Master of Death. The Winchesters summon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After being cut off from heaven Castiel starts to lose his grace and life so Sam tries to find a way to keep him alive. Dean finds out and helps him. They find a spell thing to summon death they get the Master of Death (i.e. Harry) who is not amused. PS. Harry and Castiel are lovers and Castiel did not tell Harry he was cast out of Heaven.
> 
> Requester: Allround yaoi fangirl

"Are you sure about this?" Dean asked sceptically, looking at the Latin incantation written in Sam's hand on a slightly crumpled piece of paper lying on the table.

"No," Sam answered, shaking his head, making his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it away with an impatient gesture. "But since when have we ever let that to stop us?"

"True," Dean conceded. "So you need me to read it with you, right?"

"Yeah, it should give us the power needed to summon it."

"May I just say that I don't like this?"

"Noted. But you still want to help Cas."

Dean sighed. He couldn't say no to that. "I suppose I do."

"Ready?"

"Let's get this over with."

Sam paced around the summoning circle he had drawn in chalk on the floor of Bobby's panic room, pouring holy water as he went. When he'd walked a full seven laps around it he stopped, held out the paper with the incantation and begun to read, Dean quickly joining in. They repeated the phrases seven times, and fell silent, waiting to see if something would happen. At first, it seemed like the summoning had failed. The circle where it (whatever the hell it was) would appear, was as empty as before.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Well, that worked like a fucking charm."

"I don't get it," Sam said, turning to pick up a book. "We did exactly what it says here."

"What is that book even? Is it the one Bobby gave you?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Perhaps Death doesn't like being summoned. I don't imagine he would. He's Death. And this was a little bit too easy and as far as my experience tells me, things are never easy."

"But it says here that doing this ritual will summon the Master of Death."

"Master of Death?" Dean felt like hitting something. His brother for example. "Damn it, Sam! That could be anything! You told me we were summoning Death, as in the pale horseman, not some other mumbo-jumbo master thingy!"

"Bobby thought it was Death-"

"Why did I ever agree to this? We should have found another way to help Cas."

The two brothers startled when someone cleared their throat right behind them. Swirling around they fund a man standing in the circle, or well, he looked like a man anyway. He was about Dean's height and looked about his age too, he had black hair that fell over his forehead and stuck up at the back of his head, he was wearing a blue t-shirt and a dark grey coat jacket. "Did you want something?" he asked.

"You're the Master of Death?" Dean asked incredulously. The guy didn't look the part. Then again, it wasn't as if the angels looked the part most of the time either. They looked more like irritated high-end business people than divine beings depicted in church paintings.

"I am. Now, what was it you wanted? If you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of an apocalypse here. It's busy season for me and I do not have the time to chat with you two morons, even if you are heaven and hell's most wanted."

"We want your help."

"With what? I don't have the authority to help you. I'm not allowed to get involved."

Dean frowned. "Says who?"

"The laws of this blasted universe." The man, being, glared. "Good enough for you?"

"You seem a little tense," Sam ventured to say. He was probably too relaxed, but unlike any other powerful being he'd met, this Master of Death didn't have an aura hanging around him to show that he was special. He seemed rather normal all things considered and that made Sam feel stupidly bold.

"Nicely spotted. Yes, I'm tense. My hands are bound and I have no other choice but to stand and watch as the world falls apart, and unlike most other large players on his board I do have something personal at stake. So yes, I'm not happy, but if I am to find a loophole, it won't be while talking to you two, so tell me what you want and I'll be on my way."

"All right, relax man. Just hear us out and we'll let you get back to… whatever," Dean tried to placate the Master of Death.

"Fine." The being crossed his arms and gave them a look brimming with impatience.

"We have a friend who is dying and we want you to help him, or rather we wanted Death to help him."

The Master or Death sighed. "Let me out of this summoning circle and I'll do what I can do."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. Merlin knows why I care, but sure. Don't tell me that this friend is important to stop the apocalypse or the handcuffs of faith will clamp down on me, but as long as we see this as something simply sentimental, I should be able to do something."

"Now you want to help us?" Dean asked. He was getting whiplash from the way this guy was changing his opinion. "What's with the complete roundabout? And Merlin? Did you actually say Merlin?"

"I don't want to help you specifically, you mean nothing to me, but there is a larger picture here. And well, loophole. So can you get him here or will I have to go searching? And never mind about Merlin."

Dean just nodded. He should know better than to question the crazy with crazy power. "Okay. We'll get him here. Cas! Castiel, get here now!"

Dean might have been busy shouting, but Sam was watching the Master of Death and he grew very uneasy as he saw the man's green eyes narrowed to slits and his irritated expression turn right out thunderous.

"Dean," the calm voice of the angel said, "what do you need?"

"Castiel?" the Master of Death said slowly, voice frosty with hostility.

"Oh," the angel said, looking at the man still stuck in the summoning circle. "Hello, Harry."

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted the passing of glances between the two non-humans. "You two know each other?"

"Castiel, do tell your friends if we know each other. You might know that better than I, after all."

"I'm sensing some tension here," Dean muttered, looking back and forth between the two dark-haired men.

"Harry…" Castiel tried.

"Are you dying? How can you be dying? Why do I have to find out about it from these two who summoned me asking to heal their friend?"

"I did not wish to worry you."

"Good job with that because right now I'm not worried. No, not at all. I haven't seen you since the Apocalypse started and now I find out that you are dying. Why didn't you come to me for help?"

I didn't want to bother you. I know how busy you are and I got plenty of time left."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Although the summoning circle, with the protections that should stop the master of Death from exiting it, was still intact, The Master of Death walked right through it, with glowing white eyes. He grabbed Dean who wasn't ready and couldn't defend when the being made a cutting wound appear across his chest. Sam reacted by pulling a gun. And Dean by struggling uselessly.

"Let my brother go."

The Master of Death ignored the two Winchesters.

"If you're fine, heal him."

Castiel looked with sad eyes. "I don't-"

"Heal him!"

"Fine." He walked up to Dean, holding his hand against the hunter's forehead.

"Don't, Cas," Dean protested, but was equally ignored by the Angel and the being holding him captive. Castiel closed his eyes, concentrating. A small trickle of grace swept through Dean, attempting to heal the long cut along his collar bones. It barely did anything and the Angel began to sway on his feet. Seeing this the Master of Death let go of Dean carelessly and caught Castiel, holding him upright.

"You absolute idiot."


	7. Thor - past Harry/Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter has changed identity and become Donald Blake, medical doctor and healer. And ex-boyfriend to Jane Foster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry Potter is Medical Doctor Donald Blake, Jane Foster’s ex-boyfriend  
> Requester: No one, this is mine!

Jane was flustered as Thor walked out dressed only in trousers, his whole (gorgeously toned) upper body on display and the blue t-shirt she had provided for him hanging from his hand. She resolutely kept her eyes on the notes in her book, adding a few new words absently. Her concentration simply wasn’t in it. She ignored Darcy’s appreciative comment regarding the man’s physique and went to stop Thor from fiddling with the cables by one of the computers, certain that he would manage to destroy the data mouse in his ignorance of… well most things as it appeared.

“What’s this?” he asked glancing at the nametag that was stuck to the fabric of the t-shirt as he went to put it on.

“Oh, my-ex,” she said awkwardly.  _ Donald Blake MD. _ She ripped it off. “Good with patients and bad with relationships,” she explained scrunching up the tag in her hand. 

It wasn’t entirely true. Donald might be mostly clueless when it came to women and had a string of failed relationships behind him to prove it, but what had driven them apart was that he had needed to move back to England and she hadn’t been will to give up her research to come with him. 

“They were the only clothes I had that would fit,” she finished her explanation.

“They will suffice.”

“A thank you would have been nice,” she muttered. Her cell phone, which she had left on the desk where Erik and Darcy were sitting, rang, drawing her attention away from the interaction with the strange man. 

Darcy looked at the screen and let out a small amused snort. “When you speak of the devil,” she said.

“What?” Jane bit out, already suspecting who the caller was.

“Donald Blake calling,” her assistant said cheerfully.

“He wouldn’t.”

“I don’t get why you broke up with him if he looks like that,” Darcy continued, looking at the image on the display showing a smiling man with dark hair and stylish glasses.

“Looks aren’t everything,” Jane answered and walked around the desk to pick up the phone. 

“I don’t know about that,” Darcy said and turned to look appreciatively at Thor again who was observing them silently with a mildly puzzled expression.

Jane held the phone in her palm and looked at the image, hesitating. She tried to decide if she should answer, turn down the call or just let it ring until it went to voicemail. She didn’t want to talk to Donald. It would just be awkward and she had the situation with Thor to contend with. No further drama was needed.

“Jane, you should answer. I think you owe him that,” Erik said. Out of the people present, he was the only one besides her to actually have met Donald. She knew that Erik had liked him and he had firmly believed that she should have gone with him to England. It might have put a hold on her research for a couple of years until they could return to an area where the phenomenon they hoped to observed might occur, but from what he had seen, what the two of them had would be worth the wait. Jane hadn’t agreed. For her, research was more important than romance. 

With a resigned sigh, Jane pressed the right button to answer and put the phone to her ear. “Jane Forster,” she said, striving for neutrality and falling short.

“Hello, Jane. It’s me,” Donald said, his voice as pleasant as ever, his accent which she’d found charming, stirring up old emotions that she’d tried to forget. Hearing him talk made her stomach fill with familiar guilt. He had tried so hard, explaining that he had to go back. He could keep it as short as possible. He could fly over every month. Whatever she wanted. But Jane wasn’t willing to go all the way for him. Dhe had realized that when he’d been forced back home. She’d realized that something was missing in their relationship. She always felt as if he was hiding something, and feeling like that, she couldn’t commit.

“Hi,” she said. “You know, now is not the best time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I…”

“You don’t need to lie. I get that you probably don’t want to talk to me. You made that rather clear, that you didn’t want to stay _ just friends.” _ She detected some bitterness in his tone, and her stomach churned with the accusation.  _ “ _ But I’m back in the States again and I just wanted to hear if you were okay, if your research is progressing as you had hoped and… and yeah...” he trailed off. 

That was a low blow. Now she really was feeling guilty. Of course he blamed her research for their split and until the previous night nothing had come of it which would have proved to him that it was all for nothing. “That’s exactly why this isn’t a good time. I’m in the middle of making a breakthrough. Sort of… I think… Can I call you back?”

“So it wasn’t just something you said to hang up on me?”

“If that were the case I wouldn’t have answered to begin with.”

He made a small sound and she knew he was smiling. “I suppose that’s true. Fine. Give me a ring when you have the time.”

“I will. Bye.”

o-o-o

Phil didn’t believe that Dr. Erik Selvig was speaking the truth about their  _ guest _ for even a moment. Medical Doctor Donald Blake turned Physicist? It was one of the weaker lies he had encountered, and he had heard more than a few. The blond man who had torn through some of his best Agents was no ordinary man, not even a distraught one on steroids. 

What was interesting, however, was the alias the group of scientists had given him. The moment they searched in their database for a Donald Blake matching the one Selvig was talking about they got two hits, both were fake, which just made the whole mess,  _ messier. _ One was a flimsy id for the blond and the other a perfectly legal identity change through witness protection and just looking for a moment at the other one, it was clear that he was the more real Donald Blake. Records showing that he’d shared an address with Dr. Jane Foster about a year back and was filed to have worked at Willowdale General Hospital, located in the area of the University both Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig were affiliated with. 

Coincidentally the man had been abroad and had returned to the US just the other day, giving an explanation as to why they might have thought it safe to use his identity. The interesting part had to do with what Phil found out about the real Donald Blake after the two men had left and he was free to have a look while using his clearance to see some more information on the man. 

Blake was a wizard. He’d been the resident Healer at Willowdale General Hospital. In the States, wizards could be found among regular people, spread out sparsely around the large continent with a few more tightly knit communities around some native American preserves and a couple of the older cities along the east coast, but to service the populace, at least one healer could be found in every state.

o-o-o

”Hello?” Harry easily answered the unfamiliar number calling his phone.

“Mr. Blake?” a male voice asked.

“I'm Donald Blake,” he replied. “Who is this?”

“I'm Agent Phil Coulson with SHIELD. We would like to caution you about someone using your identity.”

“What?” Harry blinked, he had not been expecting that of all things. “Someone's pretending to be me?”

“And poorly, but yes. A man we were interrogated was bailed out by a Doctor Erik Selvig who strengthened his identity.”

“Erik?”

”You know him?”

Harry stroked a hand through his hair with his free hand. ”Yeah, he worked together with my ex.”

“I see. Was her name by any chance Jane Foster?”

”Yes. You don't think they have any malicious intent do you? I could never see them doing anything that would hurt people.”

“We don't think so Mr. Blake. I have, however, an additional reason for calling you.”

“Okay?”

“Since you are familiar with some of the people involved and should have some knowledge of the supernatural we would like to ask for your assistance.”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Supernatural? Why would I have any knowledge of that? I'm a doctor, the kind who can give you stitches and listen to your lungs to tell if you have pneumonia.”

“SHIELD has access to protected identities and have insight into the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Oh, so you know about..?” 

”We do, Mr. Blake. Or should I say Harry?”

“Donald would be fine, but, if you know can't you call someone better qualified to deal with your situation? I'm still a medical doctor whether we take the statute into account or not.”

“We are aware, but we need you more for your familiarity with Doctor Foster and Doctor Selvig. The other part, I mainly consider a bonus.”

-Later scene

“Anyone can kill, but not anyone can heal,” Harry said with a glare.

The man frowned slightly.

“I have saved many lives by healing people. If someone hadn't been there to help them, they would be dead. I find it to be more important than fighting. I know that it is necessary at times. I've fought myself, but it was not something I wished to dedicate my life to.”

“I see. You have my apology. Our customs differ and it may only be tradition making it so that women are the healers in Asgard though men can do it equally well and women can be warriors. For a moment I allowed myself to be ruled by my expeditions and I am sorry.”

”Thank you,” Harry huffed.

 


	8. Harry/Tom Riddle - Time Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Voldemort recognizes Harry as someone from his past, and sends Harry back to his time at Hogwarts. What is Harry to do stuck with a young Tom Riddle for a year?  
> Requester: ThreeDeadHearts

A skeletal figure rose from the cauldron, and Harry’s silent pleas for the hideous creature that had been placed in the caulddron to drown died out. It was too late. Voldemort had been reborn. He wished to look away, but couldn’t seem to do so. His eyes were transfixed, locked on the form of the wizard whose name everyone feared to utter. Harry was idly thankful that Voldemort wasn’t facing him. It was more than enough to see his backside. The thought of what he might see if the wizard turned around had him blushing hotly. Despite the blood loss he had suffered both from the wound to his leg and the one in the crock of his arm the, life sustaining liquid rushed to his cheeks. He listened tensely as Voldemort demanded of Wormtail to bring him a robe, and felt some of the tension abate when his pale limbs were covered. The nakedness had distracted him in ways he hadn’t foreseen, and that type of thoughts were not of a sort he needed currently.

Voldemort stepped out of the large cauldron, easily. Though his legs had seemed fragile before they were hidden by the dark sweeping robe, it seemed as if the dark wizard’s new body held some grace, allowing for Voldemort to glide over the grassy ground of the grave yard as he tested out his body. He moved his hands over his bald head and face. The movements more sensual than they had any right to be. It made Harry feel uncomfortable again, almost more uncomfortable than Voldemort’s nude form had. 

Then Voldemort demanded his wand from the still snivelling Pettigrew and whatever inappropriate feelings Harry might have had were replaced by fear. The wizard was armed now. It wouldn’t be long before Harry was dead, same as Cedric. Though perhaps that was wishful thinking. A thrill of abject fear travelled through him. Death may only come if he were lucky. He had been involved in Voldemort’s fall, the only one left to blame as his mother was already dead, and the Dark Lord may want to take revenge. He would be tortured. He was sure of it. He wouldn’t get an easy death.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, still without turning around. “I’ve not forgotten about you. My honoured guest, without whom my rise this evening would not have been possible.” While his voice was high and slightly sibilant Harry could recognize the charm a young Tom Riddle had possessed when speaking. Each word was perfectly enunciated aside from the drawn out s’s. Voldemort turned around slowly, his profile coming into view. It showed a face with a flat nose, same as the face Harry remembered seeing protrude from the back of Quirrell's head. “Your position there, it is no more than you owed me after causing the loss of my body.” Harry noted how Voldemort didn’t say defeat of vanquish. It didn’t surprise him. Voldemort wouldn’t want to attribute him with anything of such magnitude, would probably not want to think of himself as being able to lose. “Now, I find that you are at my mercy. Though I can be a merciful Lord, and would have been so had you given in when last we met, I find myself with only one option. Lord Voldemort does not give second chances. Lord Voldemort does not forgive or forget.”

“I would never join you,” Harry pressed out, even as the pain in his scar was growing for each centimetre of Voldemort’s face that was revealed.

“As expected. Then we agree that you will meet your end tonight.” When Voldemort stood face to face with him, his eyes cold, blood red and reptilian, Harry expected the hatred he found there, but he did not expect it to melt away to be filled with wonder and longing and something else that made heat rise in his cheeks again. Anything but that. The anger that followed seemed almost preferable to the feelings he had seen before. Had it been lust? No! Impossible! Yet, what else could it have been? It didn’t bare thinking.

“Impossible,” Voldemort hissed, and this time it was a true hiss. Though Harry hadn’t been able to tell when someone spoke parseltongue before, always hearing it as perfectly normal English, this time he could tell. “This is impossible,” Voldemort said. “How..? It doesn’t fit. How could you change so much in just three years?” he trailed off, Harry got the impression that he wasn’t meant to answer.

There was a crack of apparition from behind Voldemort, and the wizard turned around, ready to face the threat. A figure hidden under a dark cloak of indeterminable colour stood there. Voldemort immediately attacked the stranger, firing off a barrage of spells, which the newcomer met calmly. The cloaked figure deflected or dogging each one, but never fired any spells of his own.

“I’d expected a warmer welcome, Tom,” the stranger said during a lull in the spell casting.

“You,” Voldemort said in a flat voice, as if hiding surprise or a stronger emotion. He held off from casting any more curses. It was so uncharacteristic that it gave Harry pause. This wizard knew Voldemort. Spoke to him like an equal. Who was he? Would he help?

“Still alive, yes.”

“Then why did you not show yourself until today?”

“Because of the boy tied to that gravestone, of course.”

“He and you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I imagine we have something to do with it.” The stranger walked closer, Voldemort doing nothing to stop him now. Soon they stood only an arms length apart. “There is a lot I wish to say.”

“Then speak.”

“I will, as soon as young Harry can no longer hear.” The wizard raised his wand, and Harry tensed momentarily before he began to struggle against the ropes tying him to the grave. It was futile. He only had time to squirm for a moment before the red light of a stunner hit him in the chest and the forced unconsciousness overtook everything.

—————

Harry drew in a gasping breath, sitting upright, his head spinning and black spots appearing in his vision. 

“Easy,” a female voice said. 

Harry didn’t listen. There was no possible way for him to take it easy. Voldemort was back and he had no idea what was going on.

“Where am I? Who are you? What do you want?” he asked in quick succession as he took in the room around him – large, bright, not the hospital wing – and the woman who had spoken – olive toned skin, dark hair, dark clothes.

“If you do not calm yourself, young master, I will have to dose you with a calming draught, do you want that?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want that.

“Take some deep breaths now. There’s a good lad.” Harry followed the advice, because struggling seemed futile and the woman wasn’t hostile at the moment. “I used an enervate on you, young master,” the woman explained. “You’ve been unconscious for some time while your injuries healed.”

“Injuries?” Harry asked. “And why do you call me young master?”

“Nasty injuries too. Good thing that I know a thing or two about healing. And I am calling you young master, because that is who you are.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading through this again, it’s very easy for me to tell that I wrote this a long time ago. To use so much of a canon scene? Not something I like to do anymore.


	9. Aladdin - Harry/Aladdin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ends up in the far past by accident. In his search for a way home he learns of genies, and hears that someone in Agrabah is looking for one. Enter, Aladdin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aladdin tries to steal food and is caught by the guard person, but then Harry notices and confunduses the guard and takes Aladdin in because of his self-sacrificing nature.   
> Requester: PhantomPhoenixa

**Searching for the Future**

Life was strange. This was something Harry had concluded a long time ago, or was that in the future? Time travel made no sense whatsoever. To keep from going insane (ehum, perhaps that should be insaner, or was it, more insane?), he often thought of the past from his own perspective, the timeline of his life was the only thing he could be certain about, so yeah, had had come to that conclusion a long time ago; life was strange.

It was all just his luck. The war had been over at long last and the survivors were ready to start putting their lives back together. He had begun Auror training, being accepted despite the fact that he’d never finished his education at Hogwarts. However, he wasn’t the only one and the cohort of aspiring Aurors that was to start in the autumn of ’98 had been signed up for extra classes that would make up for what they’d missed and those who wished would be enabled to sit their N.E.W.T:s so it was a rather neat deal as far as he thought about it.

Ron had been in complete agreement, while Hermione had huffed at them, only relenting after they promised that they would make sure to get a few N.E.W.T:s each when it was time for that. So things had been good, right until they one day when Harry had stayed late at the Ministry discussing theory with one of the Aurors who regularly helped with training of the new initiates. 

An alarm had come up that there had been a break-in in the Department of Mysteries and Harry had volunteered to come along. As they were the only ones from the office still at the Ministry, the other Auror had grudgingly agreed, knowing that Harry was far from an ordinary Auror candidate.

Things had gone wrong when the fight with the disguised intruder moved to the Time Chamber, which since Harry’s fifth year had been repaired and once more filled with strange artefacts. He had been rushing through the room, pursuing the man, and then chaos had erupted. As far as Harry could remember, the man must have hidden there, planning an ambush and in part it had succeeded.

His initial spell had smashed several objects to smithereens and the subsequent magic that was set free had captured Harry and next thing he knew he was waking up in a dirty back alley, with a pounding headache and a stomach that was doing somersaults until he couldn’t keep his excuse of a dinner, which had been a simple sandwich and a banana, down, resulting in him adding to the unmentionable sludge that covered the alley floor.

It had taken him some time, but eventually Harry had discovered that while he was still in London, the city was nothing like he remembered it. It was small and dirty. The people were dirty too, and if it wasn’t for his magic he would have been killed seven times over during his first day in what he came to realize was the past.

The people in England were, if not brutes, then at least uncouth. Harry had never thought that he was anything close to snobbish, but in a world where people only bathed twice a year and threw, well, literally everything and anything on the street, he wanted nothingness than the best of the best.

In search of that as well as a way to get home he had travelled south, towards the Mediterranean where culture was at its peak, and he had stayed in Rome for months, seeking out the most learned and powerful wizards in the city. Then on to Alexandria in Egypt, seeking the council of the learned wizards there. Though he spoke to the greatest minds of the time, no one knew of a way for him to return home and there were a large number who laughed in his face when he came asking for help, saying outright that he’d better get used to living in this day and age, for time travel to the future was impossible. One scholar living by the Nile some ways south of the city had taken particular pleasure in describing in immaculate detail how he upon arrival to his original time, if he got there, would age a thousand years in an instant, rotting and disintegrating.

From Egypt he had continued east and it was a young witch living in a cave by the shore of the Red Sea that had given him hope. She told him of genies, creatures Harry had thought to be mere legends, and the unparalleled power these beings possessed and how they were powerful enough to sidestep most cosmic rules.

She further told him that many of them had gone lost, the artefacts to which they were bond disappearing never to be found again, but as far as she knew, the place where they had been most common had always been, and should to this day be the area between the Mediterranean and the great Himalayas.

Before he left her, she had smiled and said that once he found what he was looking for, he would also find his way home, even if that might not be where he thought it was. Harry gave her a look, getting a vibe that reminded him strongly of Luna Lovegood, but he shrugged it off, deciding that he would handle things when they happened and not worry until then.

So now, about three years after ending up in the distant past, a twenty-one year old Harry had reached sultanate of Agrabah situated close to the River Jordan. Rumours of someone asking about the pieces of the Beetle of Wonders, a small golden item that when assembled would lead you to the location of the Cave of Wonders, where if the stories were true a Genie bound to a lamp would be hidden.

~~~*~~~

When Harry arrived someplace new, he always made sure to visit the market. In a way, it was like visiting Diagon Alley. Here in this time, magic and mundane was mixed everywhere, though at the same time, magic was a lot rarer. He had concluded that it had to do with the quota of magical people in a population and there being less people in the world meant that there were fewer witches and wizards in total.

Most of the time, the magical things were only available for you if you knew to ask for them and that was just as well, because more things than not with magical properties only worked properly for someone who had magic themselves and they could be outright dangerous if you didn’t know how to handle them.

Harry walked through the bazaar, inhaling the scent of spices that was floating through the air, recognizing cinnamon, saffron and cumin among others. He saw stands with pots and stands that sold fruit and vegetables standing side by side. There was a merchant selling camels next to a snake charmer. 

Harry smiled at that, hissing a quiet greeting to the snake, which froze in the dance it was performing making the small audience that had gathered around, jeer at the snake charmer, who looked puzzled, not understanding why the snake wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. Then people shouted in surprise when the snake made a loud hissing sound, though to Harry it sounded like a friendly greeting, both reactions had him smiling wider.

He moved on, stopping briefly by the stand of a silk merchant, pursuing the fine fabrics that were on display. The colours were raging from crimson, to azure, to gold and anything else you could imagine. Plane fabrics and fabrics with different patterns and rich embroideries were found side by side. 

He might come back later; he wouldn’t mind some new clothes in the fashion of the land. If he was to stay here for any length of time. he would need more such clothes to blend in better. Not that the clothes he wore now were all that out of place, with baggy trousers, the typical broad sash around the waist and a long armless robe over a simple shirt. 

He had refrained from donning the ridiculous shoes people wore here though, preferring to transfigure his footwear to resemble modern day trainers. He might have gotten some weird looks because of his shoes, but with all the walking he did, Harry thought he might as well be comfortable and it wasn’t dangerous enough to make him hide them with any glamour. So far, he’d not bought a turban either. It was possible that he would go ahead, however, if he found that he would have to spend any longer time in the dessert, knowing that the garment was good for keeping his head from boiling under the intense heat of the sun.

Harry continued walking, taking in the sights and sounds when his attention was drawn to a commotion ahead.

“Get back here you filthy thief!” a large, rotund man with an impressive black beard yelled, jogging down the street, panting hard. Harry turned to see who he was chasing and saw a young man weave his way through the crowd, switching direction every few steps.

“Guard! Stop the thief!”

A guard was coming out from an intersecting street and at the supposed salesman’s cry, the upholder of the law took up the chase after the young man.

Harry watched it with a barely suppressed sigh. Poverty was a real problem here, as much as anywhere else. People would starve, they would be unable to get work and that would end up resorting to thievery. It was a sad sight, a sight Harry had become uncomfortably familiar with since he’d travelled back in time and when he came across someone who only stole to fill their stomach for the day, with no sense of maliciousness or thought of self gain he would always help if he could.

He kept an eye on the pair, doing so easily as they’d been close to a square and the young man tried to get rid of his chaser by moving around it, probably knowing that if the guard lost enough distance he’d be able to get into a side alley and disappear, either by sneaking through a building or by taking to the rooftops.

Harry watched with a growing sense of awe as the young man moved through the crowd, racing atop the roofs of the stands, jumping across the road, right over the head of the guard. He was agile and quick, moving with finesse that was born from experience. But this time it wasn’t enough.

Just as he was about to jump from the roof of one of the stands into an open window through which he could disappear, the fabric ripped and he fell down. Luckily for everyone involved, that particular stand was selling cloth and the fall didn’t destroy anything.

The guard made it over in time and put his bulging arms around the younger man’s torso stopping his escape. He tried though, kicking for all he was worth, his bare foot getting caught on one of the wooden beams holding up the closest stand, making it topple over and crash.

Harry shook his head, wincing in sympathy.

The merchant who had been the one the young man had stolen from stomped over and snatched a bundle from the thief’s hand. Harry caught a glimpse of it and saw that in the brown cloth were two flatbreads, nothing more and nothing less than some bread.

The merchant walked away, pleased that he’d gotten back the bread, not caring what happened next.

“You’ve gotten away for the last time, street-rat,” the guard hissed giving a malicious smile that missed a tooth. “You’ll rot in the dungeons, where you should have been years ago.”

“Razoul, really it’s not necessary-” the young man tried to say, and Harry was a bit bemused by the familiarity of the pair. This was apparently not the first time they’d met.

“Oh, yes, I’ve had it with you. You’ll never change.”

“It was just some bread!”

“It’s always just some bread, or an apple or a pair of trousers,” the guard growled, manoeuvring his struggling captive thought the street.

“That apple was years ago, you can’t still hold that against me!”

“I can and I will. Once a stinking thief, always a stinking thief.”

“I have to eat!”

“So do I and keeping scum like you off the streets is what will get me coin for my food.”

“Please, I-”

Harry pulled out his wand, determined to help.

“No, Aladdin, I cannot allow it. I don’t care if you only take what you must. I’ve allowed you to run free-”

“Allowed is not the word I would use…” the young man, Aladdin, stopped speaking as the guard let go of his arms and began to walk away for no apparent reason, humming a cheerful tune slightly off key. “What..?” Aladdin mumbled, staring at the retreating back of the man who had been hell bent on capturing him for years. Then he shrugged, thanking his lucky star and slipped away, melting into the crowd.

Harry smiled. A confounds charm, so easy. Now to see where Aladdin had disappeared to: the lad must still be hungry.

~~~*~~~

Aladdin smiled as Abu jumped back onto his shoulder. The monkey had disappeared when he fell through the roof of the stand during the chase, but now when they were back in the shadows, having left the bazaar behind, the small primate dared to emerge.

“We’ll have to find something else to eat,” Aladdin murmured, getting dissatisfied chatter as answer. “Yeah I know,” he said, soothingly, “but we’ll find something. We always do. We’ll just have to wait a bit longer that’s all.”

Abu let out more angry sounds, ending with a soft whine.

“I’m hungry too, but you know how it is. We’re lucky I got away. Something was really strange with Razoul.”

The monkey, made a dismissive sound.

“Did you see what happened? It must have been something; he’d never just allow me to go like that. I wonder what it was.” 

“I might be able to answer that.”

Aladdin swirled around and came face to face with a man. He looked to be about Aladdin’s age or perhaps a few years older. He was well dressed, in heavy brown and blue silk that had a simple yet elegant cut and he was unmistakably muscular, but all of that Aladdin only saw for a few seconds, because he focused on the man’s eyes. They were not like any pair of eyes he’d ever seen before. They were a startling green. 

He hadn’t even known that you could have any other colour than brown for your eyes, but this man looked like his eyes had been replaced by glimmering emeralds and it fascinated him.

“Aladdin was it?” the man asked. He had a strange way of pronouncing his words, as if he wasn’t used to speaking the language, which might very well be true.

“Yes,” he answered, warily. “How did you know?” 

“I couldn’t help but overhear your, eh, conversation with that guard.” The man pulled out an apple from somewhere, it went too quick for Aladdin to say where, and that was saying something. He couldn’t see anywhere it could have been kept either. The man threw it. “Here,” he said. “Something to keep you going for a little bit longer.”

Aladdin caught the shiny red fruit. “Why would you help me?” he asked, knowing that he was sounding defensive. He was not used to any kindness. He was usually the one who gave what little he was able to come over to people in even greater need than him.

“I’ve known what it is like to be hungry and I don’t think anyone deserves to go to prison for only taking a bread.”

“You…” Aladdin wasn’t sure what he was about to say, but he had gotten the distinct impression that this man had done more for him than to toss him an apple. “Did you have anything to do with why the guard allowed me to go?”

“I used magic to make him forget about you.”

“Magic?”

“Yes, magic.”

“I- I- Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Stay safe till then.” The man winked and turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Aladdin called, making the man halt. “I don’t know your name.”

The man smiled as he half turned to look at Aladdin. “It’s Harry.”

~~~*~~~

Harry tossed a pebble into the fountain which was the centrepiece of the back garden of the establishment he was staying at. It was a beautiful place, holding the first lush greenery he’d seen for days. Travelling the land even with magic at your disposal was time consuming, and for all that they were practical, he did not like camels. Luckily for him horses were available and more common for travelling shorter distances, and the journey from the settlement by the River Jordan hadn’t been all that long, only taking a couple of days. He had travelled by boat from Egypt by the Red Sea up the Gulf of Aquaba to reach the river which had brought him inland.

He tossed another pebble into the water and sighed. He was waiting for word from the Palace. Rumours which he believed to be reliable, they had to be with the amount he had paid for the information, the Royal Vizier of Agrabah was the one who had been asking about the Cave of Wonders and the Beetle. He had requested an audience with the man and he had nothing to do but wait.

~~~*~~~

Harry followed the palace guard through one room after another. He was in the Palace having for the audience which had been allowed after a few days.

The halls of the Palace in Agrabah were not the most impressive sight he had seen since landing in the past, but it had to be placed near the top. Polished stone was everywhere, great smooth columns supporting the ceiling that was high above their heads. Rich fabrics hung everywhere, tapestries of intricately woven cloth and inlays of gold and other precious metals were dominating his surroundings.

It was a marvel that the people of this day and age had managed to construct something so wonderful and as far as he knew, it had all been done without the help of magic.

Eventually they reached the chambers belonging to the Vizier and Harry was escorted inside and presented to a tall, thin man dressed mostly in blacks. His face was long and thin, he had heavy bags under his dark eyes and a goatee that was curved beneath his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original AN from 19th August 2013  
> I had a bit of a difficulty coming up with an original way to get Harry to appear in Agrabah, I hope you didn’t mind the clichéd time-travel-by-accident-in-the-department-of-mysteries-plot.   
> I also struggled with when the story was supposed to happen. As someone swears by Allah in the movie, I decided that it would happen somewhere between 600 and 900 AD, because earlier than that we don’t have Islam, though that might be making it difficult for myself as Allah simply can mean God in Arabic, but ah well, and later than that Hogwarts would have been built and if Hogwarts existed Harry would surely have gone there for help. Excuse my long explanation of something that doesn’t matter mostly. Let’s just say that it is before 900 AD and after 200 BC, because by then Alexandria would have been established as a city…  
> Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this, I had to look up some Aladdin trivia. It was interesting learning more about the characters than what we get from the movies. For example I learnt that the Captain of the Guard, Razoul, caught Aladdin stealing an apple at age seven and he was sent to the dungeons where he had to work, before he managed to escape.   
> I hope you enjoyed the story, especially Phantom Phoenixa who requested it.


End file.
